


a hard-on for cicero

by kadtherine



Category: Addicted Series - Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie, Like Us Series - Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie
Genre: F/M, M/M, Missing Scenes, Other, alphas like us spoilers, farrow's pov, takes place after the accident
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 04:38:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14324754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadtherine/pseuds/kadtherine
Summary: Farrow blinks, his eyes burning and his throat stuffy. He briefly recalls standing over the two of them, protecting them from the storm with a shitty umbrella and watching in silent as Maximoff braced himself for his potential death, tears mixing themselves with raindrops. He remembers his hands shaking and Oscar's soft, but assured, command. He remembers it all and while Farrow may use at something to tease Maximoff with - my memory's superior than yours, Wolf Scout - he wishes he could forget





	a hard-on for cicero

**Author's Note:**

> I've written this first chapter in, like, a day because I couldn't tear myself from this particular story. It'll be a three-parter, hopefully you like it !

\- **_chapter one : he remembers everything - `�_**

**_salutem dicit (wishing health)_ **

 

Maximoff loses consciousness on their way to Philadelphia General and Farrow's stare is fixated on the movement of his chest. He'd give anything to hear his boyfriend make some comment about his abs being better than his, to which Farrow'd reply that he's clearly delusional and watch with a smile as Maximoff'd rub his mouth, trying to stop himself from smiling. But Maximoff doesn't stir, doesn't smile, doesn't talk. He breathes and for now, that's enough. That's all that matters. Farrow absently pulls at his ear, frowning at the absence of his earpiece and never-ending chatter. His radio had been destroyed in the crash, which leaves him completely clueless to whatever occurs outside the ambulance.

 

 

  
"Take care of your boy, Redford," Oscar had told him, the usual mischievous glint in his brown eyes gone from his gaze, "Do your job and keep him safe."

 

 

  
Oscar had closed the ambulance doors without letting him the time to retort, running to join the Cobalt boys in a second ambulance. He hadn't let him the time to retort than he already failed to his task. That he had almost failed to keep Maximoff alive. Farrow feels the back of his eyes burn at the thought and he sniffs, twisting his rings around his fingers as his gaze moves from Maximoff's chest to his face, to his stomach, to the rest of his body. Farrow's gaze moves from his wet back hair to his covered tails before it moves back up, as if the simple force of his stare was keeping him alive. Half of his face is covered with an oxygen mask and his head is tilted back, a brace having been wrapped around his neck. His button-up and shirt had been cut off, exposing his bruised chest to the eyes of everyone. He zeroes in on the small black point between his ribs, where he had inserted the needle earlier and the bruises already forming around the area.

 

Farrows restrains the urge to reach and lay a hand. Instead, he takes one of the limp hands resting by his side and intertwines their fingers together, bringing both of their hands to his mouth. Faroe can feel the eyes on the paramedics on the both of them, but he doesn't acknowledge any of them. He kisses Maximoff's knuckles and almost sobs when he feels him weakly squeezes his hand in response.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Once they arrive at the hospital, Farrow isn't allowed to follow Maximoff and watches, powerless as his gurney is rolled away from him, nurses and doctors running after it. Double doors close behind Maximoff with a loud bang and Farrow flinches back. He protests, saying that he's on his security detail and growls that he's his boyfriend when being told that he doesn't need any protecting. The nurse watches him with pity - compassion, sympathy, all of the above - and assures him that he'll be notify as soon as Maximoff is settled and coherent. Farrow feels the fight slowly leaving his body as she leads him toward a cot in the emergency ward, a hand on the small of her back and her gaze focused on his blood trinkeling down his temple.

 

He waves her off when she insists on treating the wound, assuring that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Seeing her bemused expression, she doesn't seemed that convinced and Farrow almost smiles at that. Instead, he asks for a first aid kit and direction to the nearest staff bathroom. He feels their gazes, hears their whispers and notices their phones taking videos of him. He catches a glimpse of Quinn and Akara standing by the front doors and frowns when noticing the absence of Oscar, mindlessly accepting the case handed to him. Farrow shoots the nurse a small smile and disappears into the bathroom, the latch closing with a loud click. Putting the kit on the ledge of the sink, Farrow grips both sides and leans forward, dark tendrils of hair falling into the eye. He looks up and winces when catching sight of his reflection. His eyes are red and swollen, his hair is sticking in every direction and his wet undershirt clings to his chest, exposing his tattoos and piercings. No wonder every person he has passed by couldn't help but stare : he looks like a mess.

 

Clearing his throat, Farrows opens the faucet and rinses his face with cold water, mindful of the opened wound to the side of his head. His brow knots when hearing a series of knocks against the closed door followed by Oscar's North Philly accent. Farrow wipes his face with his already soaked shirt and reaches over to unlock the door. He focuses on unwrapping the kit he's been giving, barely looking up when Oscar quietly slips into the room and closes the door behind him, leaning against it. He rips a packet of gauzen with his teeth and dozes it with disinfecting spray, cleansing the site around the wound. Farrow sniffs and looks up, meeting Oscar's gaze in his reflection. Much to his relief, the latter stays quiet, a hand stuffed in his pocket while the other plays with the dial of his radio. His eyes betray him, though. They see right through Farrow's carefully constructed facade and it takes all of his willpower to not break down. Farrow sniffs and looks at the sport bag dangling from Oscar's shoulder.

 

 

  
"What's with the bag?"

 

  
"It's for you," Oscar says, dropping the bag to his feet, "Fresh clothes and a towel."

 

 

  
Farrow nods in thanks, wincing when noticing the fresh blood on the gauze. Throwing it in the sink, he snaps on a pair of surgical gloves and works on a sterilizing a sewing needle, his eyes darting to Oscar every now and then. The latter has a finger pressed to his mic, frowning at the floor as he mutters something under his breath. That's only then that Farrow remembers that Oscar's client has also been involved in the accident. He's also reminded that he doesn't have a radio anymore and that he's excluded from an entire conversation. Farrow clenches his jaw, focusing on the thread through the needle. His fingers don't shake, his hands as steady as ever.

 

 

 

"Shouldn't you be with Charlie?" Farrow narrows his eyes as the needle breaks skin before the thread mends it back together, his mouvements precise and repetitive. His hold on the needle doesn't waver, his fingers don't hesitate. His hands don't shake.

 

  
"I wasn't allowed entry," Oscar replies, taking his earpiece out and letting the wire dangle down his shoulder, "They're prepping him for surgery."

 

 

 

  
Again, Farrow nods, remembering the awkward bend of Charlie's fractured leg. From what he had seen, it was a clean break. It'll heal nicely and without a complication. Farrow covers the stitched wound with a clean gauze and throws all of the used utilitaires into a bin, tying the bag.

 

 

 

"Ben's got a minor concussion, they still want to keep him over night," Oscar continues as Farrow shrugs off his wet shirt and grabs the towel from the bag, drying his chest and hair, "Winona is getting stitched up."

 

 

 

Farrow keeps nods, commiting each details to memory in case - when - Maximoff'd ask about his cousins' conditions. He feels a small smile tugging at his lips when he sees the black Yale black shirt Oscar had packed for him. It widens when he notices the water bottle and couple of energy bars underneath it. Oscar's phone buzzes and he doesn't bother taking out of his pocket, sighing before putting his earpiece back into place. He frowns at whatever is being said on the other line, his gaze moving to Farrow before he presses down his mick to reply. Farrow restrains the urge to groan and slides the bag on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at Oscar.

 

 

 

"Y'know, now that I'm the one experiencing it, I totally get the irritation of not hearing the other end of the conversation," Farrow mentions in mock nonchalance.

 

 

  
Oscar cocks an eyebrow at him, as if detecting his irritation. He probably does. Farrow breathes through his nose, his rings clicking against the sink as he he drums his fingers against the edge of the sink.

 

 

  
"Hey, do you think Epsilon could spare one radio? Mine kinda fried," he waggles his eyebrow at him, the gesture as mirthless as the smirk he now wears.

 

Oscar frowns at him, as if pondering on the seriousness of the question, "Your ass is off-duty, Redford.

 

"What? Says who?"

 

Both of Oscar's eyebrows go up at that, as if he was, now, questioning the sanity and intelligence of his friend, "Says everyone." Everyone probably meaning Banks, Akara and Price.

 

  
"Because of this?" He points to his now-dressed wound, "This is nothing. This is an-all hands on deck situation and you need me. I can do my work."

 

  
"Can you?" Oscar questions, his eyebrows climbing impossibly higher.

 

  
Farrow scowls at him, grinding his teeth, "Now, what's this supposed to mean?"

 

  
"It means I know you, Farrow," Oscar takes a step forward and Farrow grimaces at the use of his first name, "Probably better than you know yourself sometimes. I don't want to hear whatever smartass comment that's about to leave your mouth," he raises a hand when Farrow opens his mouth.

 

 

  
Oscar sighs and rubs his eyes, allowing his wariness to show. Reminding Farrow that the situation is affecting him, too. So Farrow closes his mouth and pushes his tongue into his cheek. Oscar lets his hand fall to his side.

 

 

  
"You may think that you have everyone fooled with your nonchalant, devil-may-care attitude and cool, maverick tendencies," he rolls his eyes at that, earning a small snort from Farrow, "But you don't. I see you. I've seen you."

 

 

 

Farrow blinks, his eyes burning and his throat stuffy. He briefly recalls standing over the two of them, protecting them from the storm with a shitty umbrella and watching in silent as Maximoff braced himself for his potential death, tears mixing themselves with raindrops. He remembers his hands shaking and Oscar's soft, but assured, command. He remembers it all and while Farrow may use at something to tease Maximoff with _\- my memory's better than yours_ , Wolf Scout - he wishes he could forget. His fingers shake against the sink and Farrow clenches both his hands into fists, his tattooed knuckles white. Oscar notices the small gesture but doesn't comment on it, his eyes moving from his hands to Farrow's face. He tries for a smile.

 

 

 

  
"I suppose Thatcher can't wait to grill me about my incompentences, right. I can already hear his smug voice bragging about how it was a bad idea to keep me on the force."

 

  
Oscar frowns, taking another step closer to him, "Redford, that wasn't your fault."

 

  
"Wasn't it?" He counters with a shrug. Oscar doesn't say anything but his frown deepens, "Not only did I manage to endanger my own charge, but I managed to endanger three other lives."

 

"You managed to ensure the survival of four people while being injured," Oscar corrected, standing toe-to-toe with Farrow. The latter shakes his head, sniffing, "Despite what you may think, Redford, you're no God. There's no way you could've prevent this. You did good."

 

 

  
Oscar squeezes his shoulder and a dam breaks. Farrow pinches the bridge of his nose, his entire trembling as he lets out a choked sob. And though he stands a head taller than Oscar, he finds himself engulfed in the other man's embrace, his face buried in the crook of his neck and his arms limp to his side. Farrow feels one hand cup the back of his head and the other on the small of his back, an arm circling his waist. The two stay in that position in silence, letting the minutes trinkeling by, Farrow crying on his shoulder and Oscar rubbing his head. Farrow draws back when hearing the sound of radio static, followed by a string of unintelligible words. Oscar loosens his hold around him and takes a few step back, allowing Farrow to collect himself.

 

 

 

He nods to whatever's being said in his earpiece and pressed down his mic, "Copy that. We'll be right there. Parents are on their way," he says to Farrow.

 

Farrow sniffs, pulling his shirt to wipe his face, "ETA?"

 

"15 minutes, 20 at the most."

 

 

  
Farrow nods and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, grimacing when seeing the wet spot on Oscar's dark button-up. If it bother him, the latter doesn't mention it. Farrow shoots him a small smile, holding his arms up.

 

 

 

  
"How do I look?"

 

  
"Like a hot mess, Redford," Oscar retorts without missing a beat, the shadow of a smirk on his face.

 

Farrow snorts, "Which is a lot hotter than you," his smiled widens when Oscar blows him a middle-finger kiss in response.

 

 

 

  
His body stops shaking - it stopped shaking a while ago, but Farrow only takes notice of it now that he's standing on his own. His hands are steady and his eyes, dry. He's not fine, but he's almost there. He's breathing.

 

 

 

"Come on," Oscar opens the door, "Go and check on Sleeping Beauty before the rest of the gang gets there."

 

* * *

 

  
Farrow barely has the time to check on his boyfriend before the rest of the gang, as Oscar had put, arrives. Oscar's finally left his side - after watching him gulf down a couple of energy bars - and gone to check on Charlie before he has to be wheeled into surgery. Maximoff is still out of it when he stops by his room, hooked to a multitude of machines. The oxygen mask is gone from his face and his breaths come out in wheezes. But his heartbeat is regular and no one's on the verge of dying. He reluctantly leaves the room, nodding at Bandoni who stands vigil in front of Maximoff's room. He passes by Ben's room and finds Winona sitting back in a chair, her ankles crossed and feet resting on the ledge of his bed. Half of her face is bandaged, covering the stitches that run all the way down her cheek. Farrow vaguely remembers Daisy Calloway being disfigured in a different accident and can't help but snort at the irony. She doesn't react to the noise, focused on the flat screen in front of her and the documentary about manatees. Her gaze shifts to Ben every two seconds, the latter dozing off. In the absence of either of their bodyguards, Akara had chosen to stay with the two of them, absently playing with his cellphone as if expecting a call. Probably from Sulli, Farrow thinks to himself with a smile.

 

As if sensing his presence, Akara looks toward the door and shoots him a small smile. Following his gaze, Winona perks up in her chair and waves at him. Farrow barely has the time to return the salute before he catches sight of Pierce greeting Cobalt, Meadows and Hale parents. Let everyone knows that Farrow has never been afraid of either couples. And yet, as he sees them standing all together, each holding or touching a piece of the other, Farrow can't bring himself to walk toward them.So he stays put and observes them. He watches as Lily wraps a hand around Loren's shirt, tucked under his arm while her other hand is holding Daisy's, their fingers intertwined together. Ryke stands behind his wife and next to his brother, their shoulders brushing and his hand on Daisy's collarbone, his thumb rubbing circles against her skin. Rose has an arm hooked with Daisy's, her other hand in Connor. They're presenting an united front, looking as regals as ever and Farrow almost laughs when he sees people giving the six a wide berth, whispering among them as they pass them by.

 

But then Farrow notices Lily's red eyes and Loren's stoic expression, betrayed by the broken look in his eyes - an expression he's often seen on Maximoff's face and came to recognize. He sees Daisy's wide eyes and Ryke's clenched jaw. He notices Rose's agitation and Connor's calm. Farrow sees them all and can't bring himself to take the first step forward. His phone buzzes in his back pocket, providing the perfect distraction and excuse. He frowns when seeing Akara's name flashing on his name.

 

 

 

_  
\- Nona wants to stay the night with Ben. Think we can have a second bed brought in ? -_

 

  
Farrow narrows his eyes at his phone, absently tapping his ring against the side of it before he works on his reply.

 

**  
-Don't see why not. R & D are here, I'll send them to you -**

 

 

  
He disregards Donnely's dozen unread texts and doesn't wait to see his response before shoving his phone back into his pocket. Farrow looks up and manages to catch Lily's gaze, her eyes widening in recognition. She tears herself from Loren and a second later, her superspeed powers seeming to kick in - and Farrow has obviously spent too much time around the Hale nerd squad - as she makes her way toward him. Suddenly, he finds his arms full with Lily Hale, her hold around him tight. When the surprise eventually wears off, Farrow lets out a small chuckle and wraps his arms around her small frame. He grimaces when she presses onto a particular bruise on his back, playing it with a smile when meeting Loren's narrowed eyes over her shoulder.

 

 

 

"It's nice to see you too, Lily, but I'd like to be able to breathe," Farrows says, squeezing her.

 

 

 

Lily abruptly lets go of him, her eyes wide and apologetic as she holds him at arm's length. His smile widens when she cups his face in her hands, her eyes narrowed at him as if trying to see through his bulshit. She brushes his hair away back and frowns when she notices the white bandage on the side of his face. Her fingers hover over it for a second before her hand falls to the side, her eyes meeting his again.

 

 

  
"You're hurt. Should you even be up right now? Oh god, did I hurt you even more?"

 

  
"Lily," Farrow interrupts her nervous rambling, squeezing her wrist, "I'm fine, don't worry."

 

"But-

 

"Listen to Farrow, love," Loren intervenes as he wraps an arm around her waist, resting his chin on his shoulder and rubbing her bare arm with his other hand.

 

 

  
He meets his eyes for a second, his gaze racking his body from his hair to his toes as if making sure that he's really fine and won't cause his wife anymore heartbreak by falling apart. Apparently satisfied with his assessment, Loren nods to himself and stands to his full height, reaching over to clasp his shoulder.

 

 

 

"I'm glad you're fine," he says and Farrow can't do anything but nod in response, a lump forming in his throat because Loren Hale never says anything he doesn't mean.

 

“We all are," Connor agrees, his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants - has Farrow ever seen Connor Cobalt in sweatpants ? - as he walks closer to the trio, Rose by his side, "And this whole situation could've gone much worse if you weren't in that car with them. We're in your debt. All of us."

 

 

  
Farrow finds himself gaping at the Cobalt patriarch, annoyingly speechless. He has read and heard countless things about Connor and Rose Cobalt over the years. He has heard tales about Connor's stoic, holier-than-thou attitude, has been been warned about Rose's brash nature and icy glares. But then again, he has also seen both parents practically grovel to their eldest daughter's feet to earn her forgiveness. Farrow has lived with Jane for the past year, witnessed the youngest Cobalts' dramatics and stood his ground when Beckett questioned each of the intentions toward Maximoff. Cobalts don't simply love, they're on another new level that the ordinary human isn't able to understand. Farrow's gaze flashes to Rose and he almost expects her to withdraw a knife out of thin air and slice her palm open to prove her gratefulness. Cobalts are weird like that.

 

 

  
"I-" Farrow clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, "That's really not necessary. Just doing my job."

 

  
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Ryke groans, combing his fingers through his hair, "Just accept the fucking compliment. Happens every fucking blue moon."

 

  
"He should know," Connor tilts his head toward Ryke, smiling when the latter gives him the finger in response.

 

 

  
Daisy giggles at that and Ryke's entire demeanour softens at the sound, kissing the side of her head. Loren grimaces, groaning in mock distaste and faking a wince when Lily elbows him in the ribs.

 

 

  
"Mr Keene," Farrow turns around at the sound of his name, cocking an eyebrow when noticing the nurse standing behind him, "Mr Hale is asking for you."

 

 

  
He smiles at her and nods, watching her as she leaves with barely a glance toward the others. A small smirk tugs at his lips when he catches sight of the frowns on Rose and Connor's faces, Lily looking more relieved from the lack of attention than confused. Had it been any another place, Farrow would've been looked over and ignored in favor of the more-famous people standing a few feet away from him. But this is Philadelphia General and Farrow is a Keene, his name holds too much weight for him to be ignored. Blowing out a breath, he focuses his gaze on the Cobalts and the Meadows, his eyes drifting between the two couples.

 

 

  
"Charlie's most likely in surgery by now, for his leg," he hastily adds when seeing Rose's clenched fists, "You should find Oscar, though. He probably knows more about the situation than me. Ben will also be staying the night, just in case. Winona wants to stay with him, by the way."

 

  
"Is it doable?" Daisy asks, her brow furrowed.

 

  
"Yeah, absolutely," Farrow smiles as she lets out a sigh of relief.

 

 

 

  
He tilts his way to the side, indicating them to follow him as he makes his way toward the private hospital rooms. Farrow stops in front of Ben's opened room, long enough to rap his knuckles against the doorframe and alert Winona and Akara to his presence. The latter is already on his feet, phone shoved in his pocket and ready to greet Ryke with a firm handshake while Daisy wraps Winona in a firm embrace. Connor and Rose quickly move to Ben's side, the younger boy blinking confusingly as he looks around. Akara catches his eye and gives him a nod, assuring him that's got everything under control. The gesture is enough to get Farrow moving again, Lily and Loren on his heels as he walks toward Maximoff's room. Farrow falters a couple doors away from Maximoff's room, nibbling on his bottom lip and playing with the rings around his fingers.

 

 

 

"Is something wrong?" Farrow turns around at Loren's sharp voice.

 

  
He clasps his hands together, clearing his throat, "I just think that you should brace yourselves. He's going to be shirtless and the entirety of his chest is covered with bruises."

 

  
"We're ready," Lily nods frantically, cracking her fingers. She looks up at Loren," We are, right?"

 

 

 

  
Loren grabs one of her hands and intertwines their fingers together. He kisses his knuckles and looks back to Farrow, his jaw clenched and eyes sharp.

 

 

 

  
"We're ready."

 

 

 

Farrow twirls back onto the balls of his feet and resumes his trek to Maximoff's room. He lets out a breath and stops at the threshold, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. Farrow watches as a conscious, glassy eyed Maximoff tug at a strand of his bandage, wincing as he tries to shift and change positions. With a grimace, Farrow clears his throat and makes his presence known before his boyfriend can do something stupid, like try to sit up on his own or pull the IV needle out of his hand. Farrow smirks when Maximoff's head swivels toward him, green eyes racking over his body as he slowly makes his way into the room.

 

 

 

"Don't get too excited, Wolf Scout," Farrow cocks an eyebrow at him, his smirk widening when seeing Maximoff's scowl.

 

  
"No risks of that happening with you in the room," he weakly shoots back.

 

  
Farrow whistles, "You're lucky you're not wired to any polygraph," he turns back to Loren and Lily, his smirk softening as he gestured them forward.

 

 

 

  
He stands to the side and inspects the IV drip by Maximoff's bed as both of them enter the room. Farrow can Lily tearing up again, a trembling hand covering her mouth. Loren stands behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders and his jaw clenched. Maximoff puts on a smile for his parents' sake and tries to push himself into a sitting position, much to Farrow' aggravation. Grinding his teeth together, Farrow puts a hand on his good shoulder and keeps him pressed against the bed as he pushes the button on the side of his bed. Maximoff glares at him and he winks in response, keeping a hold on his boyfriend as the upper half of his bed rises up.

 

 

  
"I could've done that," he mutters.

 

  
Farrow adjusts and fluffs the pillows behind his back, "Sure."

 

 

 

Maximoff lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes, his neck and head following his gesture. His green eyes fall once again on his parents, both of them silence as they stare at the purplish bruises covering his chest. He clears his throat and they snap out of their contemplation. Farrow snorts when he raises a hand to wave at Loren and Lily, a sheepish smile stretching his lips.

 

 

  
"Hey, fancy seeing you there."

 

 

 

Loren lets out a wet laugh and shakes his head at his son's antics, pinching his eyes and discreetly wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. Lily rushes to Maximoff's other side, her hands hovering his body as if she's going to a hug before thinking better of it. Farrow watches as he turns his head toward his mothern, the corner of his lips turning downward when noticing the distress in his mother's eyes. Farrow has a hand loosely wrapped around his left arm before Maximoff can do something stupid and reach over to grab his mother's hand. He shoots him a look from the corner of his eye but keeps quiet and Farrow's heart ache. Maximoff has been used to being the comforter and not the comforted. He has the one giving tight hugs and would still hold his younger siblings' hands if they'd allow him. And here he is, barely able to hold his mother's hand and reassure her. Farrow squeezes his arm, smiling when Maximoff looks back at him.

 

 

 

"Oh, I have an idea!" All heads swivel back to Lily at her outburst, matching frowns plastered on their faces at the sight of Lily crossing her arms in a X over her chest, "Close your eyes."

 

  
"Uh?

 

  
"Close your eyes," she repeats, bouncing on her feet.

 

 

  
Maximoff looks up at Farrow, the latter barely containing a laugh, before he turns to his father, rolling his eyes when he gets a shrug in response. Blowing it a breath, he leans back in his cushions and closes his eyes. Farrow looks back at Lily to find her nodding to herself before doing the same, holding her arms close to her chest.

 

 

 

"Alright, focus Moffy. You're against my chest and my head's under your chin. Your arms are around my shoulders and mine around your waist. I can feel your heartbeat beating in sync with mine. Can you?"

 

 

 

Farrow looks down at his boyfriend to find the latter relaxed and breathing evenly. He can sees his pupils move under his eyelids and if it weren't for the small smile tugging at his lip, Farrow would've been convinced he was sleeping.

 

 

 

"I do," Maximoff sighs, cracking an eye opened, his smile widening when he meets his mother's wide eyes, "That was a nice hug."

 

 

 

Her grin is almost as wide as his as Lily lets her arms fall to her side, brushing Maximoff's hair away out of his before she leans down and kisses his forehead, her thumb caressing his cheek. Lily leans back, booping his nose with her finger. Loren goes to stand beside Farrow, the latter taking a couples of step back as Loren reaches for Maximoff's hand.

 

 

  
"How come I've never had one of these mental hugs before?" He looks at Lily, his voice teasing and a smile playing at his lips.

 

She shrugs, the tips of her ears pink, "Must be because your telepathy powers haven't kicked in yet."

 

  
Loren nods, his eyes narrowed at his wife, "That must be it."

 

 

 

Farrow rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to contain the grin on his face as the scene unfolds. Hales. What a bunch of weirdos. Turning away from Lily, Loren intertwines his fingers with Maximoff, his thumb rubbing the back of his hand, and looks at him, an eyebrow cocked. His eyes flicker between the IV stand and him, his brow furrowing.

 

 

 

"What’s in this?"

 

  
"Lidocaine," Farrow answers, adjusting the plastic pouch and he can see Loren's tense shoulders relax.

 

  
He nods thoughtfully and turns back toward Maximoff, squeezing his hand, "How bad is it?"

 

  
"Pshaw," Maximoff sinks deeper into his pillows, his head tilted to the side, "I feel no pain. Tis nothing but a mere flesh wound."

 

 

  
Farrow frowns in make confusion and makes a show of feeling Maximoff's head for a bump and bruise, much to his boyfriend's annoyance and irritation.

 

 

  
"Did you hit your head or something? Because you're either delusional or concussed if you think that a fractured collarbone is a mere flesh wound"

 

  
Maximoff groans, "You and your technicalities. Don't you know what a metaphor is?"

 

  
"Whatever you say, Mr Harvard Dropout," Farrow's smile grows wider as Maximoff's irritation worsens.

 

  
"Fuck you," he growls.

 

  
"You wish," Farrow retorts without missing a beat, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

 

 

 

He watches as if Maximoff looks around the room, as if looking for something he'd throw at his face. Farrow also notices his pursed lips and his green eyes shine with mirth instead of pain. And his smile gets impossible wider, as if he's smiling for the both of them. They're not fine, not yet. But they're here and they've got each other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this !! Don't forget to leave a comment : it means the world to me and keeps me going. You can also follow me on tumblr : lesbianxshuri. 
> 
> Until next time, nerds  
> Kadi.


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